The Twin Who Lived
by Venath
Summary: AU. There were two children that Voldemort would attempt to destroy that night. Twins. One a regular child, the other his fated rival. Putting some new twists on an old favorite. Hiatus is more or less over, yay!
1. The Boy Who lived

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Hence the fanfiction.

AN: Well, here goes my first foray into HP fanfiction. I think it sounds a bit cliché right now, but I think that's just the curse of first chapters sometimes. I'm going to try to keep it original. As a note, I haven't read any "twin who lived" fics in a while, so I hope it doesn't resemble anyone else's beyond the superficial stuff that Twin-Who-Lived fics do (Harry having a twin, for instance). Pairings aren't confirmed, but probably Harry/Luna.

"Talking"

_Thoughts_

**Time Passage**

* * *

Peter Pettigrew regretted his actions, but only so much. He'd never been as skilled as Sirius, or as clever as Remus, and certainly never as brave as either of them. James and Lily should have known that trusting him with the knowledge entrusted with a Secret Keeper was a mistake, that he would put his own self-preservation above the importance of the survival of their children.

Children. That had been rather unexpected. Instead of a single child, the Potter's had ended up with twin boys, Harry and David. However, it had given Pettigrew room to sway the Dark Lord with reason, with what little loyalty the traitorous Animagus still held toward his old friends.

"Master," he'd said, "Surely they couldn't be the ones in the prophecy. It said one would be born. There were two children."

Of course, it hadn't been long before the Dark Lord had silenced him, and pointed out that two of them being born didn't change the fact that one of them might be the child in the prophecy. After his meager attempt to stop the Dark Lord from targeting the Potters' children had failed, he had decided to change tactics. Perhaps he couldn't save the boys, but he could save his one-time friends, the ones that had protected him through all those years of schooling.

"Master, at least let me make the task less complicated. I could distract the Potters, get them out of the way. Then you would be free to kill the children with no more than a breath."

The Dark Lord had been angered, and clearly disgusted at his servant's remaining humanity, but had agreed nonetheless. Maybe he still had some mercy left in him, maybe he believed something could go wrong if there was someone to protect the children, maybe he simply wanted to keep Peter from annoying him further without losing his only link to the Potters. Whatever the reason may have been, he'd agreed to his sniveling servant's request.

And that's how Peter had arrived where he was now. In Godric's Hollow, October 31, 1981. The Potters were out for the night trying to relax for a short time, while he "guarded" their children. Suddenly, the door was slammed open, Peter jumping from the comfort of the chair where he'd been lying in wait for the Dark Lord's arrival.

"T-The boys are upstairs, Master." The look would have undoubtedly given his young, more foolish self a heart attack. As it was, his slightly older and more matured self merely remained on the verge of self-collapse at the scathing glare of the Dark Lord.

"You know what must be done."

Of course he did. He would be useless as a spy after this. They would never trust him in his human form, and his Animagus form would be easily identified by any of the Marauders and probably by a fair number of their fellow Order members. So it was a simple fix. They would stage his death. Destroy the entire bottom floor, spread a little blood. They would make it appear as though the Dark Lord had not only killed him, but completely obliterated him. From then on, he could put his skills as an Animagus to use in the Ministry or some other location where he wouldn't be so easily recognized.

So as Peter proceeded to destroy the room, cut off a finger, and make his death seem a little more glorious to someone who didn't know the truth, the Dark Lord made his way to the second floor.

Moments later Voldemort heard the explosion below him. It was hard to miss. Pettigrew was a foolish servant, more cowardly than he would have preferred and none too loyal, but useful enough for what he needed at the moment. Still, he had to admit that the rat was at least sly enough to orchestrate a backup plan in case something went wrong in the plan, even if the odds of Dumbledore discovering his activities before he could finish his goal were remarkably low. Either way, Pettigrew's desire to appear heroic in the attempt was none of his concern. Soon the Potter twins would join their parents, and the Longbottoms would follow in due course. Then there would be no one else who properly meet the terms of prophecy. He would truly be immortal.

After reaching the children's room, looking upon one of the three people who might have been able to match him in some life, he couldn't help but chuckle. Saviors? It was pathetic to think that this is the best Dumbledore, his lifelong nemesis and greatest rival, could muster against him. He slowly raised his wand, turning it upon the first of the children. He let himself chuckle once more before uttering the short incantation that would end their lives.

"Avada Kedavra."

However, not all went as planned. If he'd been able to look back on it, he couldn't have truly blamed himself. There was nothing he could have thought of of that could have prepared him for what happened in that instant. It had always been a simple process. The green blast would strike his unfortunate target, would more or less destroy the pitifully frail body.

But somehow, in this moment, in this one instance, it didn't. It slowed for a moment, almost as if running into some invisible wall. Suddenly, bolts of magical energy looking much like lightning broke out from where the blast had "hit" the boy, striking everything nearby, and a green light flashed back towards him. The last thing felt before his vision went dark, though he wouldn't recall it later, was the indescribable feeling of his soul being torn apart, a small piece wrenched from the whole, leaving him a fragmented shade of his former self.

And as the Dark Lord's cloak fell to the ground, no body remaining of the feared master of magic, two small boys sat in their cribs. The first bore a crescent-shaped scar on his forehead, the result of the wild bursts of magic that had forced the killing curse back on its caster striking him from a distance. The second was marked with a lightning-shaped scar in the same position, the result of the magic that deflected the curse.

* * *

**A few hours later…**

Albus Dumbledore hated that he had to make choices like these. He knew they had to be done, but sometimes it was overwhelming, making decisions that could influence others for the rest of their natural lives. He'd been shocked, horrified even to learn that Tom had somehow discovered the location of the Potter children. Even more so upon learning that, based upon evidence discovered at the Potters' home, Peter Pettigrew had died in the attempt to stop him. Even worse, Dumbledore knew that somehow, the boy that had once been among his fondest students wasn't gone for good.

Now he had a decision ahead of him. He'd been standing with the two children for nearly an hour, knowing that one of them would be recognized by the entirety of the wizarding world as the Boy Who Lived. But which one?

Both boys bore a scar, meaning either could have been the one marked as Tom's equal. On the one hand, there was the younger of the two, David Potter. The magical signal left on his scar wasn't nearly as strong as his brothers, but he could feel the light coming from the mark. The elder of the two, on the other hand, had a great amount of darkness radiating from his scar. But which was Tom's equal? Did the prophecy mean he would mark the child as his exact equal, including the dark magic he was so famous for? Or did it mean he would unknowingly mark his equal with the opposite, the light? A power that he knew nothing of to oppose the power he found so precious?

He supposed they wouldn't truly know until the time came. But one had to be pronounced as the Boy Who Lived. So Albus Dumbledore made the most logical choice. Most people would fear someone scarred so deeply with dark magic. So to keep the public calm, and to keep them from fearing their savior if Harry was in fact the child of the prophecy, he pronounced David as the Boy Who Lived.

* * *

AN: So, what do you think? Great? Horrible? Okay? Nothing at all? I'd be glad to hear anything, really.


	2. Birthday

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Hence the fanfiction.

AN: A few changes here and there.

"Speaking."

_Thoughts._

_§ Parseltongue §_

**Time Passage**

* * *

**Ten years later...**

Eleven year old Harry Potter woke up to the sound of his brother tearing out of their room as fast as he could, yelling something or another about birthday presents. His younger brother, though he refused to acknowledge that he was the younger of the two, had always been far more extroverted than him. Other people thought it was cute. Harry thought it was just plain annoying. But then, other people didn't have to deal with it late at night or early in the morning every day of the year.

Feeling around for his glasses, he pulled himself up in bed. As of today, they were eleven years old. They were old enough to go to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. And tomorrow their parents would be taking them to Diagon Alley for school supplies.

Of course, that would be after the big birthday celebration, which would essentially consist of their family, Sirius, and Remus trying to enjoy a party amidst a hail of birthday cards and gifts for the boy who lived. Possibly even a few for his big brother from the more gracious fans, who thought that between a widely recognized Potions Master, a famous Auror and Quidditch player, and the boy who killed Voldemort, Harry must have had **some** kind of talent. Or alternatively, from those who pitied him for being the only member of their little family unit without such achievements to his name.

Before he could step out of bed, he felt the familiar form coiling around his stomach. _Probably hungry._ He'd found the dark black serpent, or a European Adder as it was commonly called, when he'd wandered off during a picnic when he was eight. He'd insisted on keeping it as a pet, already having named him Oros by the time his parents had found him playing with it near some bushes. They'd been weird about it at first, but they were back to normal after talking to the old man they called Dumbledore, yet another famous figure that was somehow connected to his life. He knew that snakes were usually associated with wizards who practiced the Dark Arts, but surely it wasn't **that** big of a deal. He wasn't sure what that was about, but as long as they let him keep Oros, he was fine with it. Still, he'd decided that he probably shouldn't tell them that he could actually talk to his snake. In fact, he'd yet to tell anyone that particular secret. If they were so worried about him simply liking them, what would they think if they knew he could **speak** to the things?

_§C'mon mate. Let's get this over with. Mum always goes completely nutty when it's time for our birthday.§_

_§Hungry. Want to feed.§_ It was always interesting talking to snakes. They could understand anything he said, but they usually didn't speak nearly as clearly as he did. Then again, he had once encountered a rather well-spoken boa constrictor at a zoo, which he'd accidentally released mid-conversation as his family was off in the other section of the reptile habitat…much to the horror of his parents, and the immense amusement of his godfather, Sirius Black.

"I know, I know." _§Give me a minute.§_

As he got dressed, he couldn't help but think about their situation. Ten years ago, his brother had defeated Lord Voldemort at the tender age of one. What was even stranger was that in spite of this achievement, he still feared saying the man's name. Even his parents, who were some of the few that could actually say it, seemed unnerved at doing so. Yet Harry never seemed to feel the same fear.

Of course, there were a number of ways that he'd always been different than his brother. His brother was obsessed with Quidditch, and though Harry loved flying with a passion, he didn't quite worship the sport as David and James did. But then, they never had enough people for a full team, so he'd never played a real game. And that left him as either a chaser or keeper, and he wasn't that great as either. While David spent more time playing and pranking, he'd spent more time reading and studying. Especially anything to do with Parseltongue, or Salazar Slytherin. Of course, that wasn't to say that he completely avoided playing tricks on his family. He pulled out the occasional trick Galleon here, a piece of jinxed candy there, but it just wasn't the borderline way of life that it had become for David.

Brushing the thought aside, he allowed Oros to wind around his arm before making his way downstairs. When he'd found the quiet and pushy snake, he'd only been about a foot long. Since then, he'd nearly doubled in length, and now had to wrap himself around almost all of Harry's arm unless he wanted to drag on the ground when his arm was at his sides.

Walking into the kitchen, he found his mother working at putting everything together. They generally used magic for these things like most other magical families, but she always insisted on doing things the muggle way when it came to special events like birthdays or holidays. Something about how it felt more special when she did everything with her own two hands. Or with his, James's, and David's hands, whichever worked best. Speaking of, she had finally noticed that he'd arrived.

"Harry, could you be a dear and set the table? James and David have up and disappeared."

_I can imagine why. David hates to do chores, and Dad's still a child at heart._ "Sure Mum." _And sometimes you go a little barmy._ He took a moment to let Oros outside to hunt, lounge around, or whatever it was his bizarre pet did in its free time, and then got to work. Honestly, unlike his brother and father, he enjoyed doing these kinds of things. He liked to help out.

"So are uncle Sirius and uncle Remus going to be here soon?" He hoped so. They were always fun to spend time with. Not that his parents were boring per se, but Sirius and Remus let them get away with so much more.

"Remus should be in any minute, and Sirius said he had a stop to make first, but he should fly in soon." _And on that horrid motorcycle, no doubt._ Moments after she said it, they heard the small roar of fire indicating that someone had arrived.

"James? Lily?" Poking his head around the corner into the kitchen,Remus smiled upon seeing the two. "James run out on the chores again?"

"You know how they are." Indeed he did.

"Of course. Padfoot and Prongs won't ever change. Sirius knows perfectly well that he could have brought his gift through the Floo Network without trouble. They really arejust children at heart."

Harry grinned at the wording. _My sentiments exactly._

A similar smile adorned Lily's face. "But that's what makes them so loveable."

"Indeed it is. Would you like a hand?"

"Please." With that, the trio went to work, Harry wondering what his mildly crazy godfather would be bringing this year.

Around fifteen minutes later, they'd just finished putting the final touches on everything when James and David appeared. Seeing a rightly aggravated Lily, they froze in their tracks, smiles quickly shifting from joyful to nervous. As they should have been.

"And just where have you two been?"

"W-We, uh," James stuttered "We were just visiting Headmaster Dumbledore. You know, seeing if he'd like to drop by for the boys' birthday party." It was more of a question than a statement.

"Really? Then in that case, there's no problem." David began to release a sigh of relief, but James knew his wife better than that. "Well, I suppose I should give Albus a fire-call to make sure he can make it, shouldn't I? I'd hate to be a poor host."

Giving a sheepish grin, he knew he wouldn't be able to convince her not to. "Alright, alright. We were out practicing for Quidditch. You know the boys are about to go to school…"

"And they can't play Quidditch as first years. David, you're off because it's your birthday. But you, James Potter, are going to be in serious trouble when this is over."

_Oh yes, he'll really be in so much trouble. You'll scold him, force him to sleep on the couch or something like that, and then he'll do the same thing the next year like nothing happened._ It was true. She only even "scolded" her husband for appearances these days. They'd long since learned that the Marauders were impervious to any kind of punishment that she or any member of the Hogwarts staff could come up with.

Suddenly something grabbed him from behind and lifted him into the air, squeezing him against its chest.

"Hey Harry! How's my favorite Godson?"

_How did he get here so quietly? His motorcycle is never that quiet._ If it had been anyone else it would have been infuriating. He **hated** it when people managed to sneak up on him. "Uncle Sirius. Can't. Breathe." The arms loosened, letting him drop to the ground.

"Oh, sorry about that." Ruffling his godson's hair, he winked at the boy before continuing. "But I've got the perfect present to make it up to you. Boys, you stay right here, and I'll be right back." And he was back out the door. Or at least Harry assumed he was back out the door. He hadn't the slightest clue how the man got in so quietly in the first place.

While Harry waited for Sirius, David had already started tearing into his presents. Harry raised an eyebrow at the boy, watching with amusement. _So impatient._ Lily seemed to agree.

"David, wait for your uncle to get back."

"But mom! I wanna see what I got!"

"David, do as your mother says."

"But dad, I-"

"No buts. Just hold on a few minutes."

"Aw. You're no fun."

Harry was smirking all the while. Was it so wrong to enjoy watching a sibling get in trouble? He sure didn't think so. A couple of minutes passed before Sirius returned, during which David was practically bouncing off the walls, wanting to open his presents. As the dark-haired man entered the room, he held two long, thin packages in his arm, and had a huge grin on his face.

"Alright boys. Now, me and Moony-"

"Moony and I, Sirius." Remus corrected.

"…Me and Moony both pitched in for these, so we hope you like 'em."

David tore into his like a madman, but Harry couldn't honestly say he was much better. Their parents always bought them awesome gifts, but Sirius always seemed to get their favorites. Or at least, he always seemed to get Harry's favorites. David didn't always like his, though he was smart enough not to show his disdain when the adults were around.

This time, he certainly wouldn't be disappointed. In fact, David was being quite clear about how he felt.

"The Nimbus 2000! These are the best on the market! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!"

Harry was a bit more restrained. "Thanks Uncle Sirius. They're wicked cool."

The rest of the party, for Harry at least, was much less eventful. There were presents, cake, all of the things they usually received. However, it was only after the party that Harry received the only gift that day that he felt could compete with the Nimbus 2000. He'd gone outside to track Oros down before it got dark, when Sirius had found him, once again managing to sneak up on him without the slightest hint of just how he did it.

"Hello, Harry." He chuckled as the boy in question jumped in surprise. "I hope you liked the broom." Harry nodded, though he was more distracted by the package resting in his godfather's hand. Was it another present? Sirius noticed the direction of his eyes immediately.

"Oh, this? I've got something for you. I doubt David would be able to appreciate it, but I knew you'd love this as soon as I saw it. I found it in an old family vault. You wouldn't imagine the hell those bloody Goblins gave me for trying to get into that thing. They were probably holdin' it for someone, but I don't imagine it'll be much use to the rest of the family now." **Why** it wouldn't be needed went unsaid, but fully understood. They probably weren't supposed to know about most of his godfather's family either being dead or in Azkaban, but he and David had a knack for leaning about things that they shouldn't have known. He held the package out in a light grip, Harry staring at it in excitement.

Sirius had something for him? Something that David wouldn't be getting as well? Taking the offered package, he began ripping open the paper. Sirius had been right. He **did** love it. It was a black leather-bound book of some kind, about four inches thick, obviously old. The cover was adorned with a silver emblem depicting three snakes winding around an ornate dagger and a wand that were crossing within a circular symbol of some kind.

Jumping to hug his godfather, he decided it was definitely one of the better birthday presents he'd received in quite some time. "Thanks Uncle Sirius! It's amazing."

"Well, you're welcome Harry. Now find that creepy crawler of yours and let's go have some dinner. Tomorrow, it's off to Diagon Alley."

* * *

AN: Well, there's the next chapter. I hope it's okay. Oh, and I'm a newb when it comes to British slang, so if any of the words/phrases are used wrong, go ahead and tell me. Thanks for the reviews, all. I'm glad to hear whatever you have to say.


	3. Diagon Alley

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Hence the fanfiction.

AN: For those who might not have noticed, I've been posting some revisions of all the chapters. What does this mean for the next update to the story? Well, I think you can guess.

"Talking"

_Thoughts._

_§ Parseltongue §_

**Time Passage.**

* * *

The next day was interesting, to say the least.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley, boys!" Oh yes, Sirius and James were most definitely more excited about this than the rest of them. Of course, that wasn't due to a lack of excitement on their parts, so much as it was the fact that his father and godfather were ridiculously energetic and easy to entertain. The whole "family" was in on this one. The boys, their parents, Sirius, and Remus, all crammed into one place full of magical mischief potential. With three out of four Marauders, and one possible new recruit going by the name of David, Harry couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor residents of Diagon Ally. They'd have no idea what hit them.

Knowing that James and Sirius would probably be of little help, and that they'd probably drag Remus with them as they always did, Lily had already come to the conclusion that it would likely fall to her to make the boys get what they actually came for. And apparently she was intent on starting that particular task immediately, as to prevent as much damage as humanly possible. Yes, years of experience with the Marauders had taught her well.

"Boys, we should get going. We have many things to get, and there's bound to be a crowd this time of the year." Turning towards the trio of "former" marauders, she sent a warning glare. "You three at least try to stay out of trouble. It's already bad enough that you didn't take the boys shopping earlier like I **told** you to."

"Us? Get into trouble?" Sirius tried to look shocked, while James continued. "Now Lils, when have we ever tried to get into trouble? I'm hurt that you'd think such a horrible thing about such innocent, dashing young men."

As Lily rolled her eyes and walked off towards Flourish and Blotts, far too used to the antics of the men who were practically her brothers, Harry and David followed without hesitation. However, Harry couldn't help the glance back at his father and uncles. _Y'know, one of these days, she really will find a punishment that actually works on those two. And what a sad day it'll be for the legendary Marauders._

Their parents had already bought most of what they would need, like cauldrons, robes, and the like. The normal things they probably would have bought anyway. The only things they still needed were schoolbooks, a small few of which Harry had already read, and of course, their wands. That was definitely going to be the highlight of the trip. He and David had wanted to have their own, real wands for years.

When they entered Flourish and Blotts, it was filled to the brim with people, mostly children their age and their parents. _Great. More last minute shoppers._

"Well bless my soul, it's David Potter." _Oh bollocks._ It seemed one of the customers had noticed his brother's scar. _Well that's just dandy. Can't take the little prat anywhere. If he's not doing his best to imitate the Marauders, it's that bloody fanclub of his._ Of course, Harry couldn't blame them. His little brother had destroyed Voldemort, and he always encouraged the attention people gave him. But honestly, couldn't they even buy some school supplies without being mobbed?

As the shoppers began to crowd around them, most addressing David, though a few were trying to speak with Lily, Harry nudged his mother's arm and motioned toward the list. She gave him a grateful nod, she passed him the list and small pouch of money. Harry went off to grab their books, noting the "Thank you dear" from behind him.

_If nothing else, he's good for a distraction. Let's see, we already have two copies of Fantastic Beasts, and I've already got The Dark Forces and The Standard Book of Spells for grade one…_Reading the titles as he walked through the small isles, he didn't notice anyone else in the area until he bumped into someone. Looking up, surprised that someone in the store actually wasn't showering the Boy-Who-Lived with attention, he took in the woman in front of him. She was tall, slim, and a little pale, with blue eyes and long blonde hair. He'd say she was pretty, if not for the intense scowl marring her features.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I wasn't watching where I was going."

Somehow the woman's glare became even worse as she responded.

"Well, next time you'd best pay a little more attention." She paused, glancing him over. "You're the Potter boy, aren't you? David?"

_That's…Odd. Most people are overjoyed to see him._ "No ma'am, I'm Harry. My brother's over there." He pointed towards the crowd.

"I see. The Potters did have another one, didn't they?" She gave a passing glance at his scar, and looking over to the crowd, continued. "Quite the attention hound, isn't he?" It was more of a statement than a question. Still, as rude as that statement might have been Harry had to agree. David **was** an attention hound.

"Sometimes, definitely."

"How interesting…You don't sound all that fond of him."

He got the feeling he could tell this woman how he felt about his brother without worrying about her response. She certainly didn't seem to be one of his fans. Shrugging, he decided to answer honestly, as his mother had often told them was the best solution in most situations. "Well, he can be a real prat at times. He's arrogant, and always wants attention. But I suppose it could be worse."

She pulled a book from the shelf, somehow managing to make even such a simple act appear elegant and refined, and passed it down to a small house elf he hadn't noticed before.

"Well, I had best be going. My son needs a wand. Do try to pay more attention to your surroundings from now on, young Mister Potter. Perhaps we will meet again in the future. Dobby, come." At that, she began to walk away, the elf following close behind her and looking back at him with curiosity.

"I will ma'am." He doubted she heard, but it was mostly out of habit anyway.

_Well that was a bit odd._ Not giving the strange meeting another thought, Harry went back to looking for his and David's books, oblivious to just who he'd been speaking with. On the other hand, the woman in question couldn't seem to keep her mind **off** of their little meeting, even as she met up with her husband outside of the store a few moments later.

"I met a rather interesting young boy in Flourish and Blotts a few moments ago."

Walking through the crowded street, Lucius Malfoy looked at his wife, hoping this would be quick. He wasn't fond of mingling with many of those in Diagon Alley, especially during this particular time of year. Even without all of the Muggle-borns and half-bloods it would have been an unpleasant experience dealing with all of the annoyances that came with the new school year. Still, it wasn't as though he could just ignore his wife, lest he make the already unpleasant day completely unbearable.

"Who might that be, dear?"

"Harry Potter."

Lucius nearly missed a step, a rare event for a man who prided himself on appearing dignified and in-control no matter the situation, and gave her a confused glance. Why on Earth would she find one of the Potter children interesting?

"I must say, he wasn't what I had expected."

"No?" He'd seen the other Potter child, David, before. A rather arrogant boy, especially for a Mudblood.

"No. He was actually somewhat pleasant. In fact, I found him to be a rather respectful young man." That wasn't usually enough to make her enjoy someone's presence.

"He wasn't very fond of his brother, either." Ah, and there it was. The brother of the Boy-Who-Lived not liking his famous brother would certainly raise her spirits. It would probably raise the spirits of anyone who'd served the Dark Lord. Having taken Draco to retrieve his wand while Narcissa was in Flourish and Blotts, there was nothing left for them to do in Diagon Alley. Yet he couldn't get his mind off of that little piece of information his wife had provided.

_Interesting._ Lucius' mouth twitched at the very thought of what he might be able to do with this information and just a little more information. _Very interesting._

In the meantime, while David was busy reveling in the attention, Harry had managed to buy all of their required books. Once they'd finally managed to drag David off, they'd decided to go to Eeylops Owl Emporium. They had a family owl, which was no big surprise for any wizarding family, but Lily and James had wanted them to have owls of their own. It had probably been their least complicated (and aggravating) task of the day. David had picked a large, grey owl that he'd thought was "bloody brilliant" for snapping at just about anything within range, which he'd affectionately named Nipper, fully intent on training it to peck his enemies into submission. Harry, on the other hand, had picked out a smaller, quieter snowy white owl that he'd named Hedwig.

After that, there was only one thing left. Something that was leaving both of them prepared to snap with anticipation. That something was a certain store going by the name of Ollivander's Wand Shop. Surprisingly, the small shop was void of any other customers besides Lily, David, and himself. Lily sat down on a small chair nearby, as he and his brother looked around, somewhat amazed by the sheer number of wands lining the walls.

"Good afternoon." The soft voice caught all of them by surprise, Lily nearly hopping out of the chair, David nearly tripping as he jumped, and Harry giving a small start.

_Bloody hell! Where'd he come from?_

"Mister Ollivander!" Lily spoke with a smile, seemingly over the small shock that Ollivander **should** have been legendary for, at least as far as Harry was concerned. That was the second person in two days to successfully surprise him. "How've you been? It's been such a long time."

Mr. Ollivander was smiling as well. "Ah, Lily Potter. It seems as though it was just yesterday that you were a small girl, buying her first wand from my shop. Ten and one quarter inches, made of willow. Swishy, if I recall. Very nice wand for charm work, it was." He turned his attention to the other occupants of the room and stepped out from behind the desk with a thoughtful expression.

After looking the boys over for a brief moment, disturbingly similar to the way James and David would examine new brooms, he began moving closer to them and pulled out a small tape measure. "Well, I imagine it's time for the young Potters to find their first wands, eh?" Pointing at David, he held out the tape measure. "You first, lad. Which is your wand arm?"

"I'm right handed. Can we just do this?"

_David, stop being a little prat and calm down._ Lily seemed to agree, though she obviously wasn't quite as annoyed as Harry.

"Just relax, David. These things can take time."

The tape measure began acting on its own, and Ollivander began walking around, looking through the shelves, prompting Harry to silently question just why he needed to take measurements if he was just going to grab the wands anyway. It wasn't long before he returned with a small box, just as Harry was beginning to turn his unspoken questioning towards the subject of exactly why the thing was measuring between David's nostrils.

"A find wand, this one. It's maple and dragon heartstring from a rather laidback Norwegian Ridgeback, seven inches. Rather whippy. Give it a wave." David did as he was told and waved it for a moment, producing a few small sparks. Smirking, he gave it back to Mr. Ollivander to put back in the box. As he wrapped it, Lily placed seven of the golden Galleons on the counter, and David happily went to sit in the chair.

Harry went through a similar process, the tape measure following all the same movements. He was still baffled at why it was measuring between his nostrils. _Honestly, what does that have to do with getting a wand? Would he measure my neck if he was getting me a pair of shoes? My fingers if he was getting me a scarf?_ Soon, the older man appeared in front of the counter, another small box in hand.

"Beechwood and dragon heartstring from a particularly agitated Hebridean Black, nine inches. Nice and flexible." Harry had barely started to wave the wand when the wandmaker pulled it away, placing it back in the box and grabbing another.

"Ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Give this one a try." Harry gave it a wave, and as before, it was quickly snatched away as boxes went sailing around the back of the aisle. They went through this with three more wands, before David spoke up.

"C'mon, maybe he's just a squib. Can we please leave?" Lily sent the boy a disapproving frown before scolding him.

"David, that was rude. Apologize to your brother this instant." David mumbled out a half-hearted apology as Lily shook her head, and Mr. Ollivander went back for another box. Not wanting to keep them, Harry turned to his mother.

"You two go on ahead. I'll catch up when we've found the right wand." She looked somewhat hesitant at that, not wanting him to feel abandoned. This was an important moment in a wizard's life after all.

"Dear, are you sure?"

He nodded. "I'm fine. I'm sure we'll find the right one sooner or later." _I hope._

She looked anxious for a moment, but David was restless and she reluctantly took him to meet with James, Sirius, and Remus at the Leaky Cauldron. Meanwhile, Ollivander had returned with a few more boxes. After achieving the same results as before, the older man suddenly got a strange look in his eyes, as if he'd suddenly realized the meaning to all of the unexplained mysteries of the universe.

"I wonder…" He went to the back of the shop, leaving a very confused child behind him, and pulling a box from somewhere near the bottom of the shelves in the furthest corner of the room.

"This is an unusual combination, for a tricky customer. This wand here is rather special, unique more so than most. This particular wand holly and phoenix feather, tail feather actually, eleven inches, nice and supple. Give it a wave."

Harry gave it a wave, expecting yet another failure, but was surprised to feel the sudden warmth running through his fingers. Giving it a wave, a stream of red and gold sparks fired out of the end like fireworks, lighting up the shop and sending every misplaced box and wand sailing back into their proper places, the shop appearing as though it hadn't even been entered. Ollivander was, to put it quite simply, ecstatic.

"Oh bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well…how curious, how very curious…"

"Excuse me, Mister Ollivander, but what's really curious?" _What's he so excited about? I mean, I'm glad that I found the wand I've been looking for, but he's downright giddy._

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mister Potter. Every single one. It just so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave another feather. Only one other in its entire lifetime to date. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand, when its brother…" He reached up, gently directing a finger towards Harry's forehead. "Well, its brother gave you and your twin those famous markings of yours."

Feeling a chill run down his spine, Harry paid the seven Galleons for his wand before leaving to join his family, giving one last nervous glance to the wand shop and the possibly not-all-there wandmaker who owned it. There was but a single thought that he could fully understand at the moment, running through his mind over and over.

_Voldemort's wand was the brother to mine?_

As the young Potter boy left the shop, Ollivander was an unusual combination of terrified and thrilled, almost overwhelmingly so. Dumbledore would want, need to hear about this.

The rest of the day passed without any highly notable events, aside from Sirius and Remus staying for dinner before heading out to do their own things. Yet that night, Harry sat in his room, unable to force himself to sleep. His parents, Sirius, and Remus had been overjoyed to see that he'd found a wand that suited him, and he just couldn't bring himself to reveal what Ollivander had told him. Not only because it might have caused them even more worry, but because somehow he felt as though the knowledge was something meant for he, and he alone. Anyway, as David had already gone to sleep and Harry was unable to, he had been practicing. He wasn't some kind of magic expert, and he couldn't actually cast any spells as they weren't old enough to use magic outside of school, but he could at least go through the motions.

It was also a useful way to clear his thoughts. As Oros slithered around the bed, occasionally making a short comment on how aggravated he was that Harry was leaving (Oh, Lily would be certain to feed him, but the other humans were always so overly-complicated and nonsensical. They didn't understand **anything** he told them), Harry went over what had happened in Ollivander's earlier. He wasn't exactly sure why, but the idea that he was connected to Voldemort, even just a little, fascinated him. It was unnerving, but certainly, as MisterOllivander had put it, curious.

Quite curious indeed.

Deciding that he'd had enough for the night, he prepared to go to bed. Tomorrow, he and David were leaving for Hogwarts. Tomorrow, they were officially students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

* * *

AN: Well, there's the next revision. It feels a little better to me now.


	4. Welcome to Hogwarts

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Hence the fanfiction.

AN: Here goes the next set of revisions. Enjoy.

_Thoughts._

_§ Parseltongue §_

**Time Passage**

* * *

_Oh, for the love of…_"David, shut it." Honestly, running about shoving things into his trunk at the last minute, you'd think the boy had just learned he was going to be leaving. Rolling over to watch his frantic brother, he wondered how it was that he ever got any rest with the other boy in the same room. Or the same house. Or the same country.

"Have to pack! No time left!"

_Three hours. We have three hours you little git._ "David, we have plenty of time. Now shut your trap you noisy little bugger." Harry rolled back over to face the wall, pulling a pillow over his head to drown out the rather impressive racket David was making in his mad rush to finish preparing for the coming year.

"Where is it!" Sighing, Harry turned back to his brother.

"Where's what?"

"My remembrall! I have to have my remembrall!"

_Might as well. Not like I'm getting anymore sleep this morning._ "Just calm down." He got out of bed, walked over to David's side of the room, and reached under his brother's bed. "It's in the same place you always end up losing the bloody thing." He pulled out the small ball, and tossed it over to David.

"Don't know how you manage to forget it's under there every time." Oros slithered out from under Harry's bed, and Harry leaned down to let the snake wrap around his arm as David leaped up onto his bed.

"Keep that thing away from me!"

"What's wrong David?" _Yes, having a snake as a pet when your brother is terrified of them is definitely worth the effort that goes in to taking care of it._

"Don't 'what's wrong David' me, you know that thing scares the hell out of me." It was true, though even after eleven years Harry couldn't understand why his brother was so horrified by the things.

"Good boy." He ran a finger along Oros' back as David shuddered. "Oh, don't be such a little baby. I'll see you downstairs. Well, if you can actually finish packing before mum wakes up."

Walking down the stairs, he decided he might as well make breakfast. He wasn't the greatest chef in history, but he was just about the only one in his family who could make a half decent well-rounded meal. Lily could bake like no other, but it would seem that outside of baking all of her brewing talent went towards potions instead of food. James couldn't cook to save his life, and even if Lily was willing to cook she would be too busy either trying to help David in his last-minute rush or scolding him for waiting until the last minute to begin with, likely both, and David…Well, Harry didn't want to get near anything David tried to make. If it turned out bad, they'd be sick for a week. If it turned out well, they'd still probably be sick for a week while David laughed his head off about it. Heck, Harry was pretty certain that even in his werewolf form Remus wouldn't touch something David had concocted for any reason besides trying not to hurt his godson's feelings, and even then it was still almost worth it.

Stopping to let Oros outside, he began working on breakfast. It was only minutes into his cooking that he saw his father coming into the kitchen, and sitting down at the table with a near blissful look on his face. "I smell bacon." Of course.

"Should be done in a minute."

"Thanks Harry. You're a lifesaver."

"Mum up yet?" I hope so.

"Yeah. 'M afraid so. Is your brother finished packing yet?"

_Please. You already know the answer to that one._ "Do you really have to ask?"

"Lils is going to tear him a new one."

Harry smiled at that. "Yeah, she really will." Seconds later, they heard the inevitable explosion from upstairs.

"David Peter Potter!"

James cringed, and Harry added his own opinion as he struggled not to laugh. David despised his middle name, no matter how much they appreciated what their parents' friend had done for them that night eleven years earlier. "Yeah, that's it alright. Music to my ears."

"Sibling rivalry at its best, eh?" James laughed, remembering some of the more entertaining things that had been brought about by the squabbling between his sons. Harry wasn't prone to prank people nearly as much as David or the Marauders had been. But still, with some of the things he'd done as payback for David's attempts, James was certain that there was a Marauder hiding somewhere under that calm, quiet child, just waiting for the opportunity to strike.

The rest of the morning passed in relative peace. Or at least for Harry and James. Harry was already packed, so he was satisfied just listening to his mother get after his brother for putting things off like he did. James, well James just enjoyed being able to watch chaos reminiscent of his days as a Marauder. The fact that he could have food while he did so was a plus as well.

And so, in a matter of hours, they were making their way to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Upon reaching a column between platforms nine and ten, their little group came to a stop. Harry had read about it several years before, so he was perfectly content with the idea of running through the "solid" barrier. David, on the other hand, was thoroughly unnerved. He probably thought James was pulling his leg. There were definitely two sides to David learning about the exploits of the former Marauders. For Harry, the downside was that David had a tendency to follow in their footsteps, usually with his brother as the target. On the positive side, his little brother had become incredibly skeptical, and a bit paranoid, when it came to just about anything James, Sirius, or Remus mentioned that seemed out of the ordinary.

"So you're telling me that you want me run into a wall?" Just as Harry had expected, this was definitely going to be one of David's paranoid moments.

"Of course not. We want you to run through a wall." James replied, trying to hold back a laugh. Lily lightly smacked her husband on the back of the head, knowing that he was just trying to get a rise out of his son.

"Just ignore your father dear. It doesn't hurt at all."

"I just don't want to run into a wall."

_Alright, this is taking too long now._ "If you're going to be such a baby about it, I'll go first. Just stand back and watch." Grabbing his trolley, now loaded up with all of his school supplies and Hedwig's cage on the top, he made the dash at the barrier, passing through to the platform on the other side.

"Harry!" Harry looked to his left, seeing Sirius leaning on a nearby wall, probably having been waiting for a while already. The former Marauder smiled at him, opening his arms for a hug as Harry walked over. Separating from the embrace a few moments later, Sirius grinned down at him.

"So, what did you think of my little gift?"

"It's excellent. But…Well, what language is it in? It's definitely not English." It certainly wasn't. In fact, Harry was pretty certain that it was written in a language that only someone who understood Parseltongue could comprehend. At least, that was what he assumed when he understood what was written, despite having never seen the language before, or even heard of it.

"Y'know, I haven't the slightest. I couldn't make heads or tails of it. But you're a pretty special kid Harry. I thought you might be able to make a bit more sense out of it than me." He gave Harry a quick wink and a pat on the shoulder, before turning to the barrier as David passed through, followed by Lily and James. Harry could only stare. _Could he…No. No way._ He couldn't have possibly realized that Harry was a Parselmouth. Then again, Sirius did have a talent for noticing things about his godson that often went unnoticed by everyone else.

The next several minutes passed exactly how Harry expected them to. That is to say, far too slow for his taste. He loved his family, but his mother was undoubtedly the most overly emotional person he'd ever met, at least when it came to being separated from him and his brother. He figured it must've just been a parent thing. It was almost as though they took a sadistic pleasure in embarrassing their children in public places.

As Lily finally let David out of her grip so that he could begin moving for the train, Harry stepped forward to accept his own hug.

"Remember to let Oros out in the morning. He can get a bit teed off when he doesn't get some fresh air."

"Don't worry dear. I'll take care of him. Lord knows neither James or Sirius will remember." She paused, and smiled at him as she brushed the mop of hair that he'd clearly inherited from James' side of the family. "Harry, please watch after your brother."

"I know, I know. I'll try to keep 'im out of trouble." Try. He would try to keep his little brother out of trouble. But knowing their track record, he would have to end up bailing him out of some predicament by the first holiday. The end of the year at most.

"And dear?"

"Yes mum?"

"Take care of yourself too."

"I will." He smiled. As he walked for the train, James stopped him. He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, and gave it a small squeeze.

"Have a great time, Harry. And try to keep that inner Marauder of yours from completely destroying the school. David needs a little target practice for himself." Despite the joking attitude, it was easy to see the pride in his father's eyes. And the hint of sadness. _Probably thinking about us "growing up" or something. Parents are so strange._

Harry gave him a nod, and stepped up to the train, looking back at his family and giving them one more wave before entering the car, pulling his trunk behind him. He walked through the train until he found an empty compartment near the end, pushing his trunk in first, then sat down. David was probably already making himself known to as many students as he could.

_Oh well. The more time he spends gloating to them, the less time he spends annoying me. We all win._ Moments later, as he'd started to reach for his trunk to look for the book Sirius gave him, the door to the compartment slid open, and a red-headed boy poked his head through the opening.

"Anyone sittin' here? The rest are full." Harry shook his head, and watched as the boy dragged his trunk in behind him, and sat on the opposite side of the compartment. He thought about the boy's appearance for a second and quickly decided that he must've been a Weasley. He'd never met them himself, but he'd heard loads about them from his parents, and the boy fit their descriptions of the family perfectly.

"Thanks mate. Beginnin' to think I'd have to sit in the isle." He held his hand out, and Harry took it. "Name's Ron Weasley."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Harry Potter." Ron's eyes widened as soon as he heard the name.

"Potter? As in-"

"Yes, I am David's brother. If you're looking for him, I have no idea where he is."

"No, no that's fine. But is it-I mean, I've heard a lot of people say it, but do you two really have the, well, y'know." Ron put his finger to his own forehead, in the same area where Harry had his scar, apparently not realizing that David's was on the opposite side. Harry reached up and brushed his hair away, allowing a brief flicker of amusement to cross his features when Ron's eyes widened even further at the sight of the lightning bolt scar.

"Wicked."

The train began to move along the tracks, and the two sat in silence for a minute, not quite sure what to say. So Ron decided on one of his favorite subjects.

"So, you a Quidditch fan?"

"Love it. I'm not as obsessed with it as my brother, but I love it." Ron smiled excitedly at Harry's response, glad to know he'd at least have one person to talk about the game in Hogwarts.

"Great! My favorite team is the Chudley Cannons, 'cause they…" The next several minutes were spent in a bafflingly thorough tirade regarding just **why** the Chudley Cannons were the greatest Quidditch team in human history. When it finally drew to a close, Ron turned to Harry for his opinion on the subject.

"So what's your favori-" Before Ron could finish his question, the door to the compartment swung open again, and a pale blond boy walked in, flanked by two large, angry-looking boys. Harry couldn't help but think the boy looked familiar, somehow.

"I hear that the famous Potter twins are going to be with us this year, and that one of them is in this very compartment. Any truth to that?" He looked over Harry for a second with interest, and continued. "Yes, they must be talking about you. They certainly couldn't be talking about him" The pale boy said "him" almost as if it was a curse. "The red hair and freckles are a dead giveaway. I've heard all about you from my father."

The boy turned back to Harry. "My name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Judging by the scar, you must be the other, less fortunate Potter twin. Henry was it?"

"Harry." He corrected.

"Of course, my mistake." Somehow, he didn't seem to be as apologetic as he was clearly trying to sound. "Listen up, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort of people here. I can help with that."

Draco extended his hand to Harry with a false sincerity that practically filled the compartment. Harry looked at the offered hand for only a brief period before grasping it. "I think I can pick out the wrong sort of people myself. But the offer's appreciated." Draco frowned briefly, but his arrogant smirk had returned within seconds.

"Well, I do hope you pick out the right ones, Potter. I suppose I'll be seeing you at Hogwarts." He nodded at Harry, and scowled at Ron before throwing in a "Weasel" and leaving the compartment, his two "bodyguards" following behind him.

Harry turned to Ron, who was glaring at the door Draco had left moments earlier. "Who was that? He seemed…Familiar."

"He's one of the Malfoys. Dark Wizard family that worked for You-Know-Who." How strange that Harry hadn't heard of them before. But then, His parents and their friends rarely spoke of anything that had occurred during the war. "Said they'd been bewitched. My dad thinks it's rubbish. Just a bunch of his followers who are too scared to admit they worked for You-Know-Who."

They sat in silence again, as Harry went over the information in his mind. He was certain he knew the boy from somewhere. Then suddenly, he understood why the boy had seemed so familiar. Draco Malfoy resembled that woman he'd met in Diagon Alley, both in his looks and his attitude, though admittedly the woman had been far more reserved, and probably more experienced in controlling her appearance. Could she have been his mother?

"So, uh, anyway," Ron spoke up. "I was gonna ask what your favorite Quidditch team was. Mine's the Chudley Cannons."

"Yeah, I think I got that. I'm rather partial to the Tutshill Tornados myself."

They spent the next while discussing anything about Quidditch. Favorite players, favorite teams, games, brooms, and anything else that came to mind, though Ron occasionally asked about him and his brother, and sometimes they would venture on to Ron's own family, usually Ron's own twin brothers. It felt like it had only been minutes when a voice rang through the train.

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

"Man," Ron mumbled, pale and clearly nervous. Harry could sympathize. "Guess we better put on our robes, eh mate?"

When the train finally came to a stop, they joined the rest of the students in pushing their way towards the exits. After a moment, they were standing outside in the chilly air, waiting for someone to arrive and show them what to do. Moments later, a lamp became visible, and a booming, but still very cheery voice called over to the group of students.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" As the lamp came closer, they were finally able to make out the figure calling to them. Frankly, it took a great amount of effort on Harry's part not to stare at the man that he could only describe as massive, gigantic, enormous, or…well, actually, there were quite a few words he could use to describe the humongous man in front of them.

"C'mon, follow me. Any more firs' years? Follow me!" They followed him down a steep path, surrounded by darkness. After a short time, the path opened to the edge of a great black lake, and they got their first glimpse of the wonder that was the vast castle of Hogwarts. The massive man herded all of them into a small fleet of boats sitting in the water nearby. He and Ron entered one, and were quickly followed by a girl with bushy brown hair, and a sniffling round-faced boy holding a toad as though both their lives depended on it.

"Everyone in?" The massive man shouted. "Right then. Forward!" After a short trip across the lake, and through a dark tunnel in an opening in the cliffs, they arrived at an underground harbor. Once they'd all left the boats, the huge man who'd been guiding them so far lead them through yet another passageway on foot, until they finally arrived in front of the castle.

He knocked on the door three times with his large fist, and the door opened to a tall, dark-haired woman in emerald green robes. As she looked over the students, the man greeted her with a cheerful laugh.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall."

She turned to him, her expression ever-stern, though Harry had the impression that the two were quite fond of each other regardless of her seemingly harsh personality. "Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

Leaving the massive man, Hagrid, behind them, they followed the stern looking witch through the gaping halls of Hogwarts, past a doorway to their right where Harry could hear what must have been hundreds of voices, to a small, empty chamber. She went through a brief explanation of what the four houses in Hogwarts were and how they were to be sorted into their houses in front of the rest of the school (Though much to the annoyance of the curious students, she left out the precise means by which this sorting would occur), and asked them to remain quiet as she left. The students, Ron and himself included, began silently murmuring with each other about what they'd heard was involved in the sorting process.

"Y'know," Ron leaned towards Harry with a whisper. "My brother says there's some kind of painful test before this, like wrestling a troll or some such. He was just joking though." Ron paused, slightly nervous. "I think."

"Well of course he was joking." A female voice spoke up from behind them, and the duo turned to see the bushy-haired brunette from before. "Don't be daft. They wouldn't put us through something harmful to enroll in the school."

Ron looked almost insulted, though he hadn't really believed his brother either. "And who're you?"

"I'm Hermione Granger. And who might you be?"

"Ron Weasley."

"And I'm Harry Potter." Hermione's eyebrows rose in surprise, and looked as though she was about to ask him something when McGonagall returned. Her sharp voice cut through all of the murmuring, and the students went silent.

"Move along. The Sorting Ceremony is about to start. Now form a line, and follow me."

Entering the Great Hall, Harry felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, and he was sure his legs were suddenly getting heavier. He was pretty certain the others were feeling the same way. Ron had gone pale, Hermione was silent and looking down towards her feet, and he even made out Malfoy shuffling anxiously from across the group. McGonagall lead them to the head of the room, where they stood facing their soon-to-be peers. The woman placed a four-legged stool in front of them, and a dirty, frayed wizard's hat on top of the stool.

A hat that suddenly twitched, as a rip opened near the brim almost like a mouth, and burst into song.

_"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave of heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

As the hall burst into applause, Harry joined them. Still, he couldn't help but think it was one of the most bizarre things he'd ever heard…or seen. Ron nudged him, and Harry gave him a slight nod.

"So we've just got to put on some old hat?" Ron whispered. "My git of a brother's going to get it for saying we had to wrestle a troll." Harry grinned at that. He would have to remember that one if his parents ever had any other children. He watched rather calmly as the other first years were called to the hat, and placed in their houses. Hermione and the round-faced boy he'd seen earlier were both placed in Gryffindor. It sounded like a nice place, though he'd expected something like Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. He wasn't remotely surprised when Draco Malfoy was placed in Slytherin.

Soon, it was time for the moment he'd been waiting for. Or at least, the annoying moment that happened just before the one he'd been waiting for.

"Potter, David." Harry ignored the chattering that erupted in the Great Hall, as all of the students began talking about their famous hero. It wasn't surprising, and he actually thought it was a bit amusing at times how his brother stole people's attention, but he really wanted to be sorted right now. As the hat was placed on David's head, the hall stared intently as the hat stayed silent for a few seconds longer than it had before, and called out its decision.

"Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindor table erupted into cheers, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff in applause, and Slytherin…Well, he was pretty sure he'd heard some booing from Slytherin. He wasn't honestly surprised. Really, his brother wasn't cunning enough for Slytherin, intelligent enough for Ravenclaw, or loyal and honest enough for Hufflepuff. Gryffindor was the best fit. That wasn't to say that he wasn't cunning, intelligent, or honest at all. He just wasn't really suited for houses specifically known for such features.

"Potter, Harry."

_Finally._ He walked up to the stool and sat down, taking a deep breath as the hat was placed on his head. As it came to rest on his head, he heard a voice speaking to him, almost as if it was speaking directly into his mind. Perhaps it was. The voice in his thoughts began its deliberation without a moment's pause.

"Hmm, difficult. Very difficult. There's plenty of courage, no surprise there, not from someone in that family. A rather sharp mind as well, no doubt your mother's to thank for that, though your father did have his moments. Quite the loyal one as well, clearly the work of those Marauders. Hmm, yes, but ambition as well, and certainly enough cunning. But where did that come from, I wonder? And none too little talent, no doubt inherited from your family, but also…oh my, yes! Yes, I think you would do just brilliantly in…"

"Slytherin!"

* * *

AN: A bit of a cliché to have him in Slytherin, but I'm avoiding putting him in Gryffindor (Not that I don't love Gryffindor), and I didn't think Hufflepuff (Generally more meek) or Ravenclaw (He's smart, but not insanely so) really fit. Anyway, hope you liked the chapter and the new bits. I love to hear what you think.


	5. Dungeons

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Hence the fanfiction.

AN: ****. This was supposed to be out earlier. I honestly have no idea why I've had such a hard time just sitting down and writing these things lately. Oh well. I'm sure I'll figure it out soon enough.

_Thoughts_

_§ Parseltongue §_

**Time Passage**

* * *

"Slytherin!"

Where the former placements had brought applause, cheers, and a few fireworks from the Gryffindors on occasion from a duo that must have been the Weasley twins, the Great Hall was suddenly dead silent. He looked out at the sea of faces, all staring up at him with wide eyes, almost frightened in some cases.

_Why do they all look so surprised?_ Honestly, anyone who'd known Harry for a significant amount of time wouldn't have been remotely surprised at the Sorting Hat's decision. That's why when he looked at David, he didn't expect any shock or awe and didn't receive any. Instead, the only reaction from his brother was a slightly sarcastic toast with an empty goblet. The hat had said it perfectly. He was ambitious, he was cunning, and he was intelligent. He could be a little foolhardy and brave at times, sure, but still an obvious choice for Slytherin.

Of course, most of those currently at Hogwarts didn't know Harry very well, so they were naturally shocked that the brother of the legendary Boy-Who-Lived would be in the same house as the man who'd nearly killed them both. Harry also had the feeling that by the next day, pretty much everyone that each student knew would be aware of this particular development. And not long after, so would most of their families. Probably the Daily Prophet, as well, though to this day he still couldn't understand why anyone took that tabloid seriously.

He turned to look at Dumbledore, and at the elderly man's encouraging smile stepped down from the front of the room, trying to ignore the stares coming from most of the Great Hall, and made his way to the Slytherin table. There was a low applause, probably started by Dumbledore's own genuinely friendly clapping, but nothing like the thunderous roar when his brother was sorted. It didn't take long to see Draco Malfoy nod to one of his rather burly "bodyguards," who moved a seat down, leaving one open next to him. He may not have been on perfect terms with the blond, but he was certainly more familiar with him than anyone else in Slytherin.

Sitting down next to the boy, he gave him a slight nod, which was returned with just as little enthusiasm. No reason to be excited or emotional about a seat, after all. Still, he was somewhat grateful that the kid at least seemed as unsurprised as David had. It was probably a good sign that he was at least observant enough to recognize a possible Slytherin when he saw one.

He didn't really pay attention to the next several names. A few people he didn't know, but none of them particularly interesting. He did bring his attention to the front of the room when Ron was called forward, and despite the annoyed expressions of some of his fellow Slytherins, joined the applause when he was announced as a Gryffindor. Ron seemed to be the last of them, and as he sat with his fellow housemates, Dumbledore moved to his feet, and raised his arms.

"Welcome!" His voice was audible throughout the entire room, though he somehow did so without yelling. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you, and may you all enjoy the feast!"

_That's one crazy old man._ Still, crazy or not, Harry couldn't help but like him. The table was suddenly packed with food of all kinds, and Harry started to pile some of his favorites onto his plate. Especially those that his family usually only had on holidays. If this was the kind of meals they'd be getting every day, he could definitely get used to staying at Hogwarts. From the way the other first years at the table were digging in, he had the feeling they felt the same.

Eventually, the deserts appeared, and Harry was about to begin eating when he saw Draco jump out of the corner of his eye. As he turned to see what the problem was, he nearly jumped as well at the sight of the partially transparent figure, covered in silvery blood, that had placed itself on Draco's other side. Trying to ignore the gaunt-faced ghost, for it was obviously a ghost, he turned back to his meal. Unfortunately, some of the deserts didn't seem quite as appealing when sitting almost right beside a dead man covered in blood.

Glancing towards the professors seated at the High Table, he spotted his head of house with ease. He'd heard his father and godfather talk about the hook-nosed, greasy-haired man plenty of times. His brother seemed perfectly content with their stories about how slimy Severus Snape could be, sometimes literally, according to the former Marauders. Their mother, on the other hand, didn't seem to be quite so insistent on Snape being so utterly horrid in the very rare instances where she spoke of him. Of course, as far as Harry knew, David had never really taken the time to ask anyone besides the Marauders about him.

Harry's pondering regarding his new professor was brought to an end when he felt a sharp pain race through his scar. He tried to see what might be causing it, and absently noted the fact that Snape's attention flew to him as soon as he rubbed the marking, filing it away in the back of his mind for the moment, but otherwise he saw nothing from either the professors or students that would have caused it.

_Great. Just magnificent. Just fan-bloody-tastic. Now I'll be paranoid for the rest of my stay._ And it was true. He rarely mentioned it to his parents, he hated how easily worried they were when it came to their scars, but he'd felt this before. He sometimes had dreams of Voldemort, and he was certain that it could be no one else, and always had the same reaction, the same pain. What was even more unnerving was that despite how brief it was, this was far more powerful than the small, lingering ache he had after his dreams.

He turned to look at Snape again, and the man subtly looked away as soon as Harry turned in his direction. Moments later, Dumbledore seemed to send a small, worried glance towards him, and Harry was almost certain Snape had somehow informed the elderly wizard of what he'd seen. Harry also noticed that Draco was sending him an odd look, as were a few others at the table.

"Something wrong, Potter?" The blond boy spoke, though Harry easily recognized the slight mocking tone.

"No. Nothing." His eyes scanned the High Table again for a few moments, before focusing on an odd man wearing a turban. "Who's the professor in the turban?" He tilted his head towards the fidgeting man at the high table. Draco's eyes briefly scanned over the staff, before coming resting on Harry yet again.

"Name's Quirrell. I 'aven't heard much else about him. Why? Big bad Quirrell makin' you nervous, Potter?"

"Something just seems…Off, about him. It's probably nothing." Draco glanced at the professor in question with a somewhat suspicious expression, before turning back to Harry.

"If you say so."

"Hm." With that, Harry turned back towards his desert, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that something was wrong. He took a moment to examine the other students at his table. He didn't know anyone besides Draco, and by affiliation Crabbe and Goyle, but he at least recognized a few of those in his own year. _Let's see, there was Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode, Pansy Parkinson, then…Greengrass, Davis, and Nott?_ Oh well. He'd have their names down soon enough. The girls seemed to be getting along well, and Davis was chatting with one of the older students, maybe a relative. Crabbe and Goyle were filling their plates with as much food as they could carry, Malfoy seemed distracted with something that Harry couldn't quite make out, possibly a letter, and the one called Nott…well, he seemed to be doing much the same thing as Harry; he was examining the rest of the House. Their eyes met for a brief moment, just long enough to recognize that the other was doing the same, before returning to their previous activities. After a few more minutes, when everyone seemed to have finished and the deserts had disappeared, Dumbledore rose again, clearing his throat.

"Well, I've just a few more words before we move along. For those returning to Hogwarts yet again, as well as those arriving for the first time, the forest on the grounds is called the Forbidden Forest. It is, as its name implies, forbidden for any students without the explicit permission, and supervision, of a professor. Our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has also requested that I remind you all that using magic in the corridors between classes is strictly against the rules." He paused, glancing towards Ron and his family (Or to be more specific, the twins) with an amused smirk and a twinkle in his eye.

"We will also be having Quidditch trials in the second week of the term. If you wish to join the team, you should speak with Madam Hooch. And," He slowly turned his head, far more serious before, making sure to gather everyone's attention.

"We have a new restriction, this year. The third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." His smile returned, and all of the seriousness in his expression seemed to disappear. "And how, let us sing the school song! Everyone pick their favorite tune, and off we go!"

As the students sang the song, Harry half-heartedly joined in. Amused as he was with the headmaster's sudden jumps from one attitude to another, he was curious. It was he and his brother's first year at the school, his scar suddenly flared up, and now Dumbledore was announcing a brand new restriction on a section of Hogwarts, promising a violent death to anyone who entered? It was obvious that he was keeping a secret. And all things considered, it seemed like there was a definite possibility that Voldemort's followers could have been involved. Unlike some, he'd long since realized that it was naïve to believe that all of the Dark Wizard's followers would have either been imprisoned or completely abandoned him, and with Hogwarts being the only place in the world safer than Gringotts (Or so their parents had told them on occasion), it would be a perfect place to secure something. Then again, perhaps that was jumping to conclusions.

Harry didn't hear Dumbledore's words after the song ended. He simply joined the others in following their prefect, whose name he hadn't taken the time to learn, as they left the Great Hall. Noticing his brother as they left, he gave a sarcastic half-bow, to which his brother responded by mouthing "git" with a grin, before turning to follow his own prefect up a set of moving stairs. In a somewhat amusing coincidence, as David ascended the stairs towards the upper levels of Hogwarts, Harry and his new housemates were descending towards the lower levels. Harry couldn't help but think it mirrored their lives. In the eyes of the public, David was the bright star heading straight for the top, while Harry was the quiet shadow remaining, for the most part, out of sight and mind. And honestly it was all for the better as far as he was concerned. He wasn't sure how his brother could tolerate all that attention, all of those eyes following his every movement, listening to every word.

It didn't take them too terribly long to reach the castle dungeons. They had just come from the ground floor, after all. The dungeons were, as he'd expected, considerably darker and colder than things in the Great Hall had been. He couldn't help but let out a quiet sigh at the location. Dungeons. He really, really, really didn't like dungeons. Or basements. Or cellars. Or caves. Or any other dank, dark place too far below the surface of the ground for his comfort. He'd yet to find a single place fitting that description that he actually did enjoy spending time in. Naturally, he would end up in the House with main quarters that just happened to be in precisely such a place. Such was his luck.

It was a bit odd, really, considering his fascination with snakes, and the connections he and his brother held with a legendary Dark Wizard who undoubtedly spent a significant amount of time in such places. But then again, it simply served as yet more proof that despite their connections to Voldemort, they were still their own people. Within minutes their group came to a stop in front of an empty stone wall, green torchlight giving the place an eerie sort of glow. The prefect stepped forward, before turning to address them.

"My name's Marcus Flint. Being your prefect, I'd try to stay out of my way if I were you. You won't get docked points. We don't ruin Slytherin's record for stupid mistakes. But we bloody well won't care if you come to us complainin' about your housemates givin' you a hard time. 'Sides, if you've done something enough to hack off everybody else, you won't be getting' any better treatment from the rest of us." With that, he turned to the wall, and said a single word.

"Purity." As the stones shifted, moving aside to allow them entrance, he stepped to the left and spread his arm towards the common room as if ushering them in.

"Welcome to Slytherin, kiddies."

* * *

AN: Yet another revised chapter posted. Hope you enjoy.


	6. First Day

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Hence the fanfiction.

AN: Quick note: If I recall correctly the Gryffindors/Slytherins only had Potions together in the first book…I'm going to be altering that slightly. Nothing major, really. If I'm wrong about that, then it doesn't matter anyway.

_Thought_

_§Parseltongue§_

**Time Passage**

* * *

One week later, he entered the Great Hall for breakfast once again. And as he took the seat next to Draco that he'd deemed as his own, he was once again forced to listen to the excited whispers and rants about the great David Potter. Now he didn't hate that David received so much attention. In fact, at times it could be pretty useful, like when they were doing last-minute shopping and decided to let everyone stroke his brother's ego while they got in and out before the lines could reform. Was it sneaky and underhanded? Of course it was, but he could live with that. Still, an entire week? Even his patience had its limits.

His fellow Slytherins didn't seem to be faring much better, if the Parkinson girl's voice was any indication. Naturally, she looked a few seats down to him, probably due to his relation to the person in question. Or maybe he was just close enough for her to consider him a target for the oncoming rant.

"I know! All I've heard since school began is 'David this' and "Boy-Who-Lived that". It's bloody ridiculous. Hey Potter, your brother's a real-"

"Wanker? Prick? Twit? Git? Wanker? Prat? Dunce? Wuss? Wanker? Did I mention wanker? I've probably called him just about anything you can think of, and more times than I'd care to count. You'll have to come up with something pretty creative to surprise me."

"…Right then." And somehow he knew that she would be getting back to him on the subject as soon as she thought of something.

Indeed, his relationships in Slytherin hadn't been quite as rough as he'd expected. Most of them certainly didn't like him, but the fact that he didn't hold his brother in particularly high regard seemed to prevent most from actually loathing him as severely as they did his brother. At the very least, he could take comfort in the fact that they probably wouldn't try to kill him in his sleep. Probably. If things kept up as they were, they might strangle him in his sleep just to relieve the frustration that David had been causing them. Frankly, he hadn't even considered the idea until his parents had sent a letter expressing their concern over his placement.

…Or his mother, at least, had done so. Based on the letter's sudden shift from exaggerated claims about what the Slytherins would probably do to a more elegant and polite query regarding his stay at the castle, his mother had probably dragged his father away from the letter and finished it herself. Though he was surprised that Sirius hadn't blown a gasket. He didn't honestly expect any of them to be angry at him, but his godfather generally seemed just as worrisome and paranoid about those in Slytherin as his actual father did. Then again, ever since that incident at his birthday he'd had the feeling that Sirius knew a bit more about his less than Gryffindor-like qualities than he tended to let on, and his actions at the platform had only reinforced the notion further. And speaking of letters...

_Time for the morning post._ The flood of owls was unsurprising. The flood of Daily Prophet issues being carried by said owls was also unsurprising. The front page article of said paper, however, couldn't be described as anything short of awe-inducing, and it would seem that the rest of the hall agreed when nearly every conversation suddenly shifted to the same subject: Someone had attempted to break into Gringotts. There wasn't much else in the way of conversation at their table throughout the rest of the meal. A few "any plans" here, maybe a few complaints about already having tests there, a bored "see you in class, Potter" or two, but most of the discussions were more or less the same. Of course, most of them probably just wanted to get to class, regardless of the unexpected revelation. They had Double Potions with their Head of House, Professor Severus Snape, and according to some of the older students that inevitably meant winning more points while the other Houses lost them, possibly in droves depending on just how Snape felt on that particular morning.

Yes, the week was almost over, and so far he'd been mostly unimpressed with his classes. He'd expected Herbology, for instance, to be a bore. Professor Sprout was nice enough, and he was always willing to learn new information, but aside from that it simply wasn't a subject that interested him, perhaps aside from a few ingredients that could be used in certain potions that could be useful. Then there was History of Magic, which was undoubtedly the most boring class in the history of Hogwarts. And this was a fact he was certain that all of the students at Hogwarts, regardless of their personal or House-related differences, could actually agree on. In fact, he was confident that Professor Binns tempted even the girl called Hermione Granger to sleep through class, and if that wasn't a sign of a boring year to come then he didn't know what was.

At least Transfiguration had been somewhat interesting. He'd read up on it, but never really had any experience practicing it. Even if he'd had a wand before coming to Hogwarts, it would have been a pain trying to play it off as a simple case of accidental magic as often as it would take to really master something. Oh, sure, he might have been able to get away with smaller transformations as long as their parents or godparents were around, but he'd never liked just settling for simple results. He'd have been compelled to push the limits of his ability, to see just how advanced in transfiguration he could become, and that would have undoubtedly led to complications when he started attempting higher level transformations. Either way, he'd figured out how to turn the matchstick into a needle before the class was over, as had Hermione, and just barely managed to do the same to David's without being caught (Though he made sure not to give him more than what was necessary to nudge the boy along).

David, as expected, had kept quiet about the whole incident. Ignoring his enormous ego, it was a system they'd worked out some time before, even without magic at their disposal. David was an attention hog, but he was still lazy when it came to studying, and Harry didn't like to make a big deal out of things. So when the opportunity presented itself Harry would help David just enough for him to take the spotlight, and then sit back and accept his own praise after things had calmed down. Now that they finally had their wands, it was just considerably easier to pull off since they could actually **use** magic. The only thing about it that actually bothered him was that David probably could manage quite a few of the things Harry helped him with on his own if he would actually try instead of just relying on his brother. But he doubted David would change any time soon, and so was satisfied with throwing him into the limelight and standing back to watch the show, at least for the time being.

And so it was that he found himself preparing for Potions. His brother was sitting a few seats away, Granger on one side and the boy from the train, Ronald, on the other. Oh, and then there was Professor Severus Snape…right in front of his brother.

"Ah yes, David Potter. Our new celebrity." The man's voice was almost a whisper, and did nothing to take away from his dark image. After all, if your whisper was intimidating to someone who spent their free time hissing back and forth with snakes, it said a lot. Maybe Harry was the only one to pick up on this, as he was the only Parseltongue in the school, but it made a statement all the same. The man was just plain frightening, especially to a group of children.

Perfectly aware of his impact on the students, Snape continued.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death. That is, if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

What Harry found truly disturbing about the professor's speech was most definitely the fact that, excluding the demeaning attitude, his mother had once described potion-making to him in much the same way. Then again, his mother was just about the only person he knew besides Snape who could actually instill that much anxiety in him simply by taking a certain tone…

Glancing around, he could see that most of the other students were reacting to the professor in more or less the same way. His brother and Ron were exchanging incredulous looks, and Hermione remained ever-intent on proving that she wasn't less intelligent than the purebloods in the class. At least, he assumed that was part of her reasoning. He hadn't really been given too much time to get to know the girl, and had only garnered the fact that she was talented and Muggle-born in the short time he'd been at the school, but in that case it seemed reasonable enough that she'd wish to prove herself.

As Snape turned towards his brother, Harry had a feeling that he knew what was coming next, and pretended to yawn as he silently placed his wand underneath the desk. Meanwhile, his brother prepared for the coming onslaught from two seats away.

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Granger's hand immediately shot up, but unsurprisingly went ignored.

"Powdered asphodel and wormwood? You'd, erm…you'd get a sleeping potion. Yeah, a sleeping potion. Draught of Living Death, right?"

At his answer, Snape seemed slightly taken aback, and Hermione's eyes narrowed from the seat beside David, eyes flickering to his face for a moment.

"Hm. Indeed. Well then, Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"I-you'd take-I mean, you'd find it in a goat. A goat's stomach, I mean." Snape cocked his head with a suspicious expression, before posing a final question.

"Quite. The bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat that can save you from many poisons. You'd best remember that. Now, Potter, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Harry's head shot up at that, a questioning expression spread across his face. _Monkshood and wolfsbane? You'd have to read pretty far into the book to learn about the last question, but I didn't even read about this one in the advanced book._ Admittedly he'd only read about a fifth of the way through the Advanced Potion Making textbook, and hadn't understood the entire thing, but his point was the same regardless. The only person in the class who probably knew the answer without having been told was probably Hermione, and Snape would likely continue to ignore her completely.

"I…I don't know, sir."

"I suppose fame isn't everything then, is it Mister Potter? It would do you good to pick up a book on occasion in the future. Wolfsbane and monkshood are in fact the same plant, and also go by the name of aconite. I hope you've all been writing this down, as I have no intention of repeating myself."

A flurry of writing echoed in the room, as the students desperately attempted to remember exactly what was said during the exchange. It seemed only a few had actually bothered to take notes on Snape's blatantly biased questions.

"Oh, and that will be five points from Gryffindor House, for your failure to answer the questions properly."

"What!" David's voice was clear in the once-again-silent room. "But that's so unfair!"

"Another five points from Gryffindor, Mister Potter, for your cheek." With that, and some minor prodding from Ron and Hermione, David let the subject drop. He wasn't that stubborn, and he wasn't going to lose points for his House just because of something so insignificant. If nothing else, Harry could honestly say that his brother's ego wasn't so great that he'd allow others to be hurt for its sake.

The rest of the class passed with little incident. He was, unfortunately, paired with one of the Slytherin students he didn't know too well, Tracey Davis. Perhaps Malfoy wasn't what he'd call a friend, but he was as close as Harry expected to get to any of his Housemates in the immediate future unless something major happened to change their minds. Besides, from this vantage point, he seemed to have some idea of what he was doing. Not that Harry thought he needed the help, but it wouldn't hurt.

So a few more lost points for Gryffindor later, mostly due to an exploding potion and his brother's status as a prime target for Snape's hatred of the House, they began packing up. Most of them had the afternoon off, and they fully intended to take advantage of it. So with that in mind, pretty much nothing would stop him from leaving.

"Mister Potter."

Except for that. The Potter twins turned to the professor, and were surprised to find that he was looking at Harry for once, rather than preparing to dock points from Gryffindor.

"I need to speak with you in private, for a moment."

"Yes sir." With a half-smirk, his brother gave him a sarcastic wave and left the room. After a few moments it was completely empty save for the two of them, Snape now sitting behind his desk and writing something down on a piece of parchment. Soon, eager to leave, Harry decided to break the silence.

"Erm, Sir, didn't you have-"

"Quiet, Mister Potter." Snape seemed to glance over him one more time, before crossing his hands on the desk. "I will not lie, Mister Potter, I am somewhat impressed. You seem to have at least some understanding of Potions. No doubt a result of your mother's influence."

"I'm not sure what you mea-"

"Don't interrupt."

"Sorry Professor."

"I shall let it go this time as I would rather not take points from my own House. But if you will, Mister Potter, do try not to feed your brother answers in the future." With that, he returned to his writing.

"I-Yes Professor." _What? How did he know?_ It was something he'd come up with and explained to David not long after receiving their wands. It was a silent spell that essentially allowed him to inscribe small messages on the inside of David's glasses, in a way that no one looking at him should have been able to notice. He had mostly used it for a few of David's last-minute pranks before they left for Hogwarts, and had no intention of helping him to cheat on actual work, but those questions had simply been too unfair to just ignore.

As if hearing his silent question, Snape glanced back up at him.

"His eyes kept rolling from side to side. He was obviously reading something. He's rather poor at subtlety, that one."

"Ah." They would have to work on that.

"You're dismissed, Mister Potter."

"Oh, right. Er, good day, sir."

Wondering exactly why Snape was so much more lenient on him, and he didn't believe for a second that it was solely due to his status as a Slytherin, he made his way for the common room.

* * *

"David Potter, what was that about?" Hermione's slightly annoyed voice pulled him and Ron out of their debate over what Quidditch team was the best. Initially they'd found the girl a bit bossy, but over the course of the week she'd grown on them, possibly because she didn't fawn over him like most of the student body. Or at least, she'd grown on him. Ron still seemed to be having difficulty dealing with the "know-it-all" witch. To put it lightly, he'd been shocked when she seemed more curious about Harry than she was about him.

"Snape? I dunno."

"Yeah, how should we know why Snape hates him so much. I reckon he's just a slimy git who gets his kicks torturing us."

"Not that, Ronald. You were cheating!" A baffled look flashed across Ron's face at the whispered outburst.

"What's she talking about?"

"It's a spell Harry came up with. How'd you know?" Normally any schemes Harry came up with, which were admittedly few and far between, were just shy of completely foolproof. Hermione continued, keeping her voice at a whisper as they entered the common room, in case there were still students lingering.

"You once complained that you didn't read anything for Potions yet, and I've known you long enough to say that you don't act particularly studious. Then I could make out something on the inside of your glasses, and your eyes kept moving. After I saw your brother's hand moving under his desk, it was rather simple to put together."

"Bloody hell…I didn't notice any of that."

"No surprise there." They ignored the mumbled agreement from Hermione. "She's the first one I've met that actually realized it, and we've been practicing it practically since we got our wands."

"You still haven't answered my question, David." She'd finally returned to using her normal tone of voice, having found the common room empty.

"Why'd he do it? Why not? Harry always does that kinda thing for me."

"But-" Ron paused, as if struggling with the concept. "Isn't he a Slytherin? And I thought you two didn't get along?"

"We don't, really. But hey, like each other or not, we're brothers. He's always been watching out for me." Honestly, he wasn't sure why. Several years back he might have thought it was just more adoration for the Boy-Who-Lived, but he'd quickly come to realize that his brother couldn't care less about his position. Even when he'd been a glory hog, or teased him, or insulted him, Harry hadn't ever truly stopped keeping him out of trouble when he could. Shrugging, he dropped into a chair, planning to relax for a little while before finding something to do around the castle.

"He's sneaky and creepy sometimes, but he's not that bad. For an annoying, manipulative lunatic, I mean."

* * *

AN: Hope you enjoyed the revisions.


	7. To the Skies

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Hence the fanfiction.

AN: Final section of revisions, new chapter should be up shortly. So…yeah.

"Talking"

_Thought_

_**Telepathy/Mental Conversation**_

§ Parseltongue §

**Time Passage**

* * *

Not for the first time since coming to Hogwarts, one Harry Potter found himself both thrilled and aggravated to the point of mental breakdown. It was time for their first official flying lessons. He was far from a novice when it came to a broom, but it had always been about a half-hearted family game when he'd been at home. In this case, not only would he be allowed to just relax and do something that he enjoyed, but he would have the opportunity to earn grades and points for it. Unless things just went horribly wrong, and hopefully he could avoid any serious disasters, it was a win-win situation.

Now if only everyone would stop going so crazy about it.

There were of course people like Malfoy and David, who insisted on ranting about their amazing skills or their brilliant "adventures", all of which were clearly exaggerated, at least to him. Then there were the ones who had no experience. They, Harry could admit, didn't bother him quite so much. With no former experience in flying it only made sense that they would be worried, and trying to work through those fears. But the most annoying were easily those who knew about James Potter. As if being the Boy-Who-Lived didn't get enough people going, now he had to listen to them prattle on about how David must have taken after their father, the Quidditch ace.

The fact that it was one of the very few lessons he had with both the Gryffindors and Slytherins only made his headache worse. He was half tempted to hex them all just for some peace and quiet, and briefly wondered how a House that was supposed to be founded on cunning and trickery managed to accumulate so many people who apparently believed that being as loud, boisterous, and troublemaking as possible somehow equated to subtlety.

At least a few of his "comrades" in Slytherin lived up to the title. Theodore Nott…Now even after such a short time, it was obvious that that particular student was a truly cunning, self-serving manipulator. He'd already proven multiple times over that he could care less about the House rivalries, and was only interested in working with whoever may have served his interests best from moment to moment. He neither attacked nor allied with their rivals in Gryffindor, and never praised or badmouthed David unless he was being particularly foolish. Harry had only spoken with him a few times, and in each of their encounters had been more for the purpose of testing and judging one another than honestly making conversation.

No, Theodore Nott was one of the few Slytherins that he would actually acknowledge as being a true, unquestionably faithful representation of the traits that they were supposed to be famous for. That wasn't particularly a good thing, of course. As it was, Nott was simultaneously one of the easiest to get along with and the hardest of them to actually deal with, at least in Harry's case. There were enough similarities for them to respect one another, but it was nearly impossible either of the two to tell just where the other stood at the time. Their "friendship" was mostly based around a mutual respect towards each other's realization that sometimes staying in the background could yield far more useful results than making oneself known. Still, regardless of those issues, Draco and Nott were just about the closest things to "friends" that Harry had in Slytherin, if any Slytherin could honestly call another person a "friend" these days.

Speaking of the blond boy, Harry took the time to glance over at the two who were arguing. He couldn't help but notice how strangely similar his brother and housemate were. Perhaps they had different reasons for their actions and personalities, but they were alike all the same. Both were aggressive, blunt, and stubborn to a fault. Both tried to put on a brave face, but seemed to back down whenever they didn't have support nearby. And, most obvious of all, both of them had egos that could dwarf a sun. Hence their current competition to come up with the most elaborate tale of daring, bravery, and unbelievable airborne stunts that they could possibly think of, glaringly fake or not.

For a brief moment, Harry's hand twitched towards his wand. If their professor didn't get there soon, **someone** was getting a numb jaw. Or knocked unconscious. Either one would work. He brightened up at that. He really did need to thank Sirius again for his gift. He'd only been through a small fraction of the strange book during moments of privacy, unwilling to read it in the crowded halls and classrooms of Hogwarts, but he'd already learned a number of new spells ranging from harmless tricks to curses that might actually be able to cause their targets some rather difficult troubles. Nothing too dangerous, but certainly enough to shut his brother up for a few minutes. The notes and lectures on Parselmouths had been far from unwelcome as well, though so far that information had also been little more than footnotes and brief explanations. In fact, he was tempted to say that the book seemed less like an informative text and more like a journal…

Deciding that it would probably be for the best if he distracted himself, he ignored the annoyed glances of his fellow Slytherins and stepped over to the nervous bushy-haired girl that he'd met on their first day. Another familiar dark-haired boy was standing in front of her, seeming to focus on her every word. No doubt he was trying to remember each and every piece of advice that she had apparently learned when reading about Quidditch, at least if what little he'd heard of their conversation earlier was any indication. He quietly cleared his throat, and the duo started at the sound.

"Hello there, Granger, Longbottom. Your first time on a broom?" He nodded politely to them, and they blushed slightly at the question.

"As a Muggle-born, I admit that I'm not familiar with this particular activity." There had been plenty of time to practice spells, potions, and the like, but despite all of her reading she simply didn't have the time or resources to practice flying before arriving at Hogwarts, and the restriction on first years having their own brooms made it nearly impossible to see what it was like before their official lessons started. Neville, much like Hermione, seemed to lack the experience.

"My gran couldn't really teach me." Or more appropriately, **wouldn't** teach him. He seemed like a nice enough kid, but he was one of the clumsiest people Harry had ever met.

"I see." Come to think of it, he had heard something about that not too long ago. His brother and Malfoy had a bit of a confrontation earlier on because Malfoy had been taunting Neville about something. He hadn't taken much notice of it – getting in between his brother and Draco when they argued wasn't exactly on the top of his priority list – but he remembered it was a marble or ball of some kind.

"Well, don't worry too much about it. If you're too nervous it will only make things more difficult. Just relax, and try not to think about it too much." At least, that's what he'd been told. He'd never had any difficulty making his broom work for him, and David hadn't struggled much either.

"Well, um, thank you." Even when trying to give them help, most of the Gryffindors seemed to look at him as though he had a second head, not that he tried to help them all that often. Hermione and Neville didn't seem to be any different.

_This is getting a bit awkward. What is our professor waiting for?_

As if answering his question, a gray-haired witch made her presence known with a sharp whistle. They quickly quieted down and stood with their housemates, waiting for the lesson to start, and the slightly stern woman began to introduce herself.

"I, students, am Rolanda Hooch. You may refer to me as Madam Hooch." She was polite enough, but her booming voice reminded him of the coaches that he'd seen on a Muggle television program once. "I'm here to teach you lot the basics of handling a broomstick. Now stop gawking and stand by a broom! Well, hurry it up, on the left side!"

They rushed to follow the command, each picking out a broom. Harry absently noted that his broom and most of the others were in less than impressive conditions. Most were chipped and splintered, with small slivers of wood sticking out here and there. The Gryffindors seemed satisfied, but several of the Slytherin's and his brother were all looking at the old brooms with obvious disdain. _I swear, if David starts complaining about the quality, I'll snap one of the things over the little prat's head._

"Now, hold your right hand over your broom and shout 'up!'" The yells followed. The brooms, however, did not. While Harry's shot immediately to his hand, Draco's and David's following as well after only a second call, most of the students were having a little less luck. Ron seemed to pick it up more quickly than most of the others in the lesson, a fact that Harry would later attribute to a latent Quidditch skill. Of course, he would also note that it hit him in the face at least once before he managed to summon it to his hand due to sheer force of bad luck. The same poor luck which would inevitably cause the red-haired boy problems for the rest of his educational career.

Aside from that, there were no others who retrieved it at a notably quick pace, and the rest of the students managed the task within a few minutes. Madam Hooch briefly walked up and down the space between the houses, making sure to correct all of their positions as necessary before walking to the end of the rows. Once they were all in ready, the actual flying began, as did the real excitement.

"All right everyone, listen carefully. When I blow my whistle, you will kick off from the ground, rise a few feet, and then lean forward slightly to touch back down. I do not want to see any showing off. Do you understand?" The class responded positively, if somewhat reluctantly in the case of two particularly cocky students.

"Very well then, on my whistle. Three, two, o-Longbottom, what are you doing!"She shouted as Neville began rising into the air, clearly to his own horror. If ever there was someone that needed to keep his feet on the ground, or that had luck even poorer than Ron's, Harry quickly decided that Neville Longbottom was probably that person as the boy began soaring through the air, twisting, twirling, and looking far more pale than usual as he nearly ran his classmates down, sending them dropping to the grass. The spectacle only lasted for a brief moment, as Neville soon caught his robe on a nearby statue well over a dozen feet in the air while his broom spiraled off towards the Forbidden Forest.

_Well, at least he didn't_ – Neville's robes ripped, and gravity did its work – _Fall. Oh…balls._

The crack was audible, and they didn't need the hurried Madam Hooch to tell them what had happened. Even as she examined Neville's arm, her face had gone pale and she murmured "broken arm" under her breath. She placed a hand behind the sitting boy's back and helped pull him up by his good arm before turning to the class.

"I'll be taking young mister Longbottom to the hospital wing. None of you, and I mean **none** of you," Her eyes darted between David and Malfoy, "are to go near those brooms in the meantime. You do not move fly them, you do not mount them, you don't even move them, or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you have the chance to say Quidditch."

They'd barely gotten out of earshot when Malfoy decided to open his mouth, and Harry decided that there really must be some kind of deity set on making him miserable in his first year. And, as he might later reflect, what probably should have been his **last** year a dozen times over.

"Did you see his face, the great lump? Bloody hilarious!" As some of their fellow Slytherins joined in, Harry noted that much like him, Nott was rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. Sooner or later, someone needed to give Draco some advice on subtlety. Preferably sooner. Much, much sooner. After a few traded insults, and in spite of several of the Gryffindors telling them to shut up, Malfoy and his fellows didn't seem intent on silencing themselves any time soon.

And then Draco spotted it.

"Well, look at this! Seems the oaf dropped his little present from gran-gran!" The Slytherins broke out into more laughter.

_Please don't tell me-_

"Hand it over, Malfoy." David stepped away from the gathered Gryffindors, holding his hand out as if Draco was an ashamed child prepared to return a stolen toy to a disappointed parent. "That belongs to Neville."

…_Ugh. And here we go._ Unsurprisingly, the two seem to have developed a rather frustrating rivalry with one another in their brief time at the school.

"You know, I think I'd rather not." And suddenly Malfoy was on the broom and in the air, far faster than Harry would have expected. It would seem that Malfoy hadn't been all talk, though considering how much he and David talked in the first place it would probably be more difficult to believe that there wasn't at least something true in their boasting. Either way, he seemed intent on challenging David to turn his words into actions as he called down to them, now hovering perhaps a dozen feet over the tops of the great oak trees nearby.

"Maybe I'll leave it somewhere for the oaf. What do you think? Castle tower? The Black Lake? Maybe one of those nice tall trees in the Forbidden Forest?"

David was willing to meet the challenge, and an angered yell broke through his lips as he leapt to his broom and rushed to meet Malfoy. Now both the Slytherins and Gryffindors were cheering, encouraging their housemates in the skies…All except for Hermione, who was trying desperately to talk some reason into the duo and the others.

_Great. Just bloody brilliant. I guess I can't let both of the fools get in trouble. It's bad enough that I've got to listen to Draco rant about my idiot brother, but if he gets kicked out I'm going to be dealing with Mum._ He shuddered at the thought. Though Lily Potter was outwardly one of the kindest souls you would ever set eyes on, when he and David got into serious trouble it was…Well, a full month of howlers coming in day after day might manage to touch the tip of the iceberg that was an angry Lily.

And so, against his more logical mind's pleas for him to turn back, he mounted the broom and took off. Ignoring the surprised cries from the students below, who apparently hadn't expected yet another of their ranks to take off (Though they seemed torn as to whether this was to help Malfoy, David, or just to steal his brother's spotlight), he dashed between the two and began playing peacekeeper. Or trying to, at least.

"Alright, now let's-"

"About time you showed up, Harry! Let's take this little git down!"

"What's the deal, Harry? Turning on one of your housemates?"

"I'm not turning on anyone, I'm just-"

"You mean you're helping him! What the heck is wrong with you? Never figured you'd turn into a real snake."

He briefly wondered if he could make David falling off of his broom look like an accident before shaking his head. No, now probably wasn't the greatest time to consider knocking his brother senseless. That could wait until they weren't dozens of feet off of the ground. Taking a deep breath, he turned to the blond with a bored expression.

"Draco, just give it back. This is a waste of time."

"I knew you were on my side, Harry!"

"David, shut it! Malfoy, if you'd just-" _I'm just trying to keep you two from getting expelled, though at this rate I damned well might just welcome it!_

"Yeah, Malfoy, just give up! Or do you think you can take us without those trained gorillas backing you up?"

"David, I just told you to shut up!" _And when did I say anything about 'us' taking him on?_

"Face it Harry, he's a fraud. Without all his little friends he's too much of a coward to try anything!" There was no way someone with an ego like Draco's would just let that insult go.

"Dammit David, I said-"

"A coward, am I?" The boy was practically oozing rage. "You want this little piece of trash back?"

_Oh bugger._ Harry had the feeling he knew what was about to happen. So he remained unsurprised as he twisted his broom around only to see Draco's arm drawing back to throw the Remembrall. And between them, he knew that David certainly wouldn't be fast or coordinated enough to catch something so small. The thought barely had enough time to cross his mind before he was soaring through the air after the Gryffindor's gift, pushing the old broom to what was probably its maximum speed as the Remembrall flew towards a footbridge connecting two towers. With mere seconds to spare, he snatched the orb from the air and flipped his broom over, knuckles scraping against the underside of the stone for a split second before he sped away, turning upright once he was clear and making his way back towards the field.

And in doing so, he realized that he'd drawn a bit of attention. Both houses seemed torn over what to do. Some Slytherins were glaring at him as though he were an insect, obviously unhappy with his decision to help a Gryffindor. Others were cheering at the display of speed and the seemingly effortless catch. The Gryffindor's, on the other hand, seemed satisfied with either matching the cheer or staring on in shock and suspicion. All except for David, who was pouting at all of the sudden attention being directed at his twin, and Draco, who was watching his housemate with a frown on his face. A frown, but a hint of curiosity as well.

_So much for staying unnoticed._ He flew over to David, absently dropping the orb in his hand before moving on to Draco. He grabbed his robes and pulled him close enough so that only he could hear his annoyed whisper.

"Do you want to get in trouble, Malfoy? If you'd broken his Remembrall, then they'd either try to get back at us or go to McGonagall. And since David doesn't know the place well enough to get any real payback ready yet, we'd probably be looking at McGonagall. Then we'll be looking at our points as they disappear. Then take a guess at who we'll be dealing with." As if it really needed saying. Pestering the Gryffindors or not, Snape would be very unpleasant if they managed to lose that many points over something so trivial and childish.

"Harry Potter!" He released Draco, and anxiously turned to face a very annoyed Head of House.

"Professor McGonagall." The courtyard suddenly seemed far, far too quiet as the professor angrily marched towards them.

"What in the heavens do you think you're doing! You could have broken your neck! Never, in all my years at Hogwarts, have I seen such a stupid, reckless stunt!" Surprisingly, it was the generally friendly red-headed Gryffindor that came to his rescue. He could at least say that the boy tried.

"Professor, Harry was just-"

"Mister Weasley, I don't want to hear it. Potter, come with me this instant!" He couldn't hear the reactions of his peers as they walked away, but he imagined they were somewhere between happy to see the glory-hogging brother of David Potter leave, anger that he'd get in trouble for obviously trying to help (Which one he was helping depended on which House was telling the story, of course), and confusion as to why he'd gotten involved in the first place from those who didn't realize that he was attempting to help. He glanced up at the stone-faced McGonagall, hoping that he'd schooled his face into a real enough expression of fear and sadness.

"You're not going to expel me, are you?" She turned to him, and he dropped the façade immediately. She'd obviously seen far more talented actors before.

"Perhaps if you were in my House, I would consider it. But as it is, only the Headmaster or your Head of House can make that decision at the moment."

If his mother could hear the words going through his mind at that moment, he doubted that he'd be able to hear again after the tongue lashing she'd have given him. If Snape had been angry at him before, then he would probably be furious to hear that Harry had broken more rules. It would just make him look more and more like the Marauders, and you didn't need to be psychic to realize how much he hated even the mention of that particular group. Honestly, the walk to Snape's office in the dungeons was quite probably the longest that Harry had gone through in his eleven years on earth.

And finally it ended, door swinging open after a polite knock. Snape looked up, and he scowled as his eyes scanned across Harry's forehead.

"What have you done now, Potter?"

"Mister Potter apparently decided it would be proper to take his broom for a ride around the castle courtyard, without supervision, when Madam Hooch had explicitly told him and his classmates to remain grounded. He was lucky that he didn't break his neck with how he was speeding about."

"I see. Then I suppose I shall have to punish him, won't I?"

"I'll leave it to you, Severus." He turned to watch her stride from the room, and winced when it slammed shut behind him, not wanting to turn around.

"Well, well, well. Gallivanting around, breaking rules, and performing stunts that put you and your peers at risk? Now where, oh where have I heard that story before?"

"Sir, I-"

"You will speak when given permission, Mister Potter." He paced back and forth in front of the boy a few times, and Harry's tension grew with each moment of silence. Finally Snape's pacing came to a halt, and he stared down at Harry, condescension echoing in his words. Condescension and…concern?

"And what precisely would have driven one of the great-and-mighty Potters to perform such a stupid act? Or does your kind even need a reason? You know, for a brief moment I thought you might have actually received some of your mother's genes, but you seem to be just as foolhardy and arrogant as your father was. So tell me, what is your excuse, Mister Potter?"

And at that moment, Harry didn't care if he got in trouble. He was probably getting expelled anyway, so why did it matter?

"I was trying to make those blithering idiots shut their gobs and get back on the ground because both of the little asses were going to get us all in trouble, and then Malfoy went and lobbed Longbottom's Remembrall across the courtyard so I had to chase it down, and then everything just went all to cock and now I'm here! There, is that enough of a bloody explanation for you! Just expel me and get it over with."

Harry doubted that he'd ever see Snape so close to flabbergasted as he was at that moment. Then again, maybe he wasn't shocked, given that a quirked eyebrow was his only visible reaction. He'd at least hoped to get the man to break his calm exterior before he was kicked out of Hogwarts, but it seemed even that goal had failed.

"Finished?"

"…Quite. My apologies, Professor."

"Noted. Now, a Remembrall, you say?"

"Yes, a Remembrall. It was Neville Longbottom's."

"I see…Interesting. Yes, quite interesting." He paused, turning back to lean over his desk, and plucking his quill up to write something down. When he'd finished he turned back to Harry with a folded piece of parchment in hand.

"You'll be serving one hour of detention with me every night for the next two weeks."

"Fine, I'll go pa-wait, what?"

"Are you dumb **and** deaf now, Potter?"

"No, I mean-You're not going to expel me?"

"Perhaps not…You can remain in this school and serve your detention, but only on one condition."

"What exactly is this condition, Professor Snape?"

"I'm glad you asked. Tell me, Mister Potter, have you ever played Quidditch?"

* * *

AN: Thanks to those of you that have remained with my story even after so long without an update, and I'm really, really sorry for taking so long. I hope you enjoyed the new chapter.


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